Kalashnikov tuned the balalaika and began playing it. Ergunov could not make out what kind of song he was playing, whether it was joyful or sad, because at one moment it sounded so sad he wanted to cry, and the next it would turn quite jovial. Merik suddenly jumped on his feet and started stamping with his heels on the same spot. Suddenly he spread his arms wide, walked on his heels from the table to the stove, from the stove to the chest, then sprang up as if he had been stung, clicked the heels of his boots together in the air, then squatted down and went around in circles. Lyubka waved both her arms, shrieked desperately, and followed him. At first she moved sideways menacing, as if she wished to sneak up on somebody and hit him from behind. She tapped fast with her bare heels the way Merik had done with the heels of his boots, then she spun around and around like a top as she squatted down, her red dress blowing out like a bell. Looking at her fiercely and baring his teeth, Merik squatted down, then rushed toward her to crush her with his frightful legs. She jumped up, flinging her head back and waving her arms like an enormous bird flapping its wings, barely touching the floor, as she floated across the room….
“That girl is hot!!” thought Ergunov, sitting down on the chest, watching the dance from there. “She makes my blood boil! Even if you gave her all you could, it still wouldn’t be enough.” He regretted that he was a medical assistant, not a common peasant, and that he was wearing a jacket and a chain with a gilded key, instead of a blue shirt with a rope belt. If he’d only just been a peasant. Then he could have sung bravely, danced, and gotten drunk, and could hug Lyubka with both arms the way Merik did…
A sharp noise, shouting, and whooping made the dishes clink in the cupboard and set the flame of the candle dancing. Lyubka’s necklace thread snapped, scattering beads all over the floor, while her green kerchief fell off her head, until all that was left of her was a flashing red cloud with sparkling dark eyes. Merik’s arms and legs seemed as if they would fall off at any moment.
Finally, Merik stamped his foot for the last time and stopped completely still. Exhausted and hardly breathing, Lyubka leaned against his chest. He drew her tight, hugging her as he looked into her eyes and told her tenderly, as though he were joking, “One day I’ll find out where your old mother hides her money, I’ll kill her, and cut your throat, sweetie. Then I’ll set your inn on fire. People will think you were lost in the fire, and I’ll take your money and head to Kuban, where I will drive herds and keep sheep.”
Lyubka made no reply, only looked up at him and asked: “Is it nice in Kuban, Merik?”
He did not answer. Instead, he went over to the chest, where he sat down and started reflecting on something, most likely Kuban.
“Anyway, it’s time for me to go,” said Kalashnikov, getting up. “Filya must be waiting for me now. Goodbye, Lyubka.”
Ergunov went out into the yard to make sure that Kalashnikov did not steal his borrowed horse. The snowstorm was still going strong. Everything was white, from the grass to the bushes to the open field where it looked like giants in white robes with wide sleeves were spinning round, falling down, and then getting up again to wave their arms and fight. And the wind! The bare birch and cherry trees, unable to endure its rude caresses, bowed low to the ground, crying, “Oh Lord, for what sin did you fasten us to the ground and not set us free?”
“Whoa!” said Kalashnikov, as he saddled his horse. Half of the gate was open, with a high snowdrift lying beside it. “Well, go!” shouted Kalashnikov to the little short-legged nag, who promptly set off and sank up to its stomach in the snowdrift. Kalashnikov appeared completely white from the snow, and soon he, together with his horse, vanished through the gate.
When Ergunov returned to the room, Lyubka was crawling along the floor picking up her beads; Merik was not there.
“She’s a great girl!” thought Ergunov, as he lay down on the bench, putting his head on the sheepskin. “Oh, if only Merik weren’t here.” Lyubka made him nervous as she crawled near the bench. It occurred to him that if Merik had not been there, he would certainly have hugged her, with no one around to see what would happen next. Well, she was still a girl, of course, but not likely to be chaste. Even if she were chaste, who would care about that fact in a den of thieves? Lyubka picked up her beads and left the room.
The candle was fading as it flickered down near its base. Ergunov put his revolver and matches beside him and blew out the candle. The small icon lamp was twinkling so strongly that it hurt his eyes, causing spots of light to dance around the room, and on Lyubka, until it seemed as if she were dancing and spinning around again.
“Oh, if only the evil would take Merik away,” he thought.
The icon lamp blinked for the last time, crackled, and went out. Someone, it must have been Merik, entered the room and sat down on the bench. He puffed away at his pipe, and a swarthy cheek with a black spot got lit up for an instant. The nasty tobacco smoke made Ergunov’s throat itch.
“What nasty tobacco you’ve got, damn it!” commented Ergunov. “It makes me sick.”
“I mix my tobacco with oat flowers,” answered Merik after a pause. “It’s easier to breathe.” He smoked, spat, and walked away again. About half an hour later, a light gleamed in the hallway. Merik entered in a sheepskin jacket and cap, then Lyubka with a candle in her hand.
“Please stay, Merik,” Lyubka was begging.
“No way, Lyubka. Don’t hold me back.”
“Listen, Merik,” said Lyubka, as her voice turned tender. “I know you’ll find mother’s money, and will do away with both her and me, and will go to Kuban to love other girls. Whatever happens will happen. There’s only one thing I ask of you, sweetheart: stay now!”
“No, I want to have fun …” said Merik, tying his belt.
“But you came here on foot, how will you travel now?”
Merik bent down and whispered something quietly in Lyubka’s ear. She looked toward the door and laughed through her tears.
“And he’s sleeping, that puffed-up villain …” she said.
Merik hugged her, kissed her forcefully, and went outside. Ergunov thrust his revolver into his pocket, jumped to his feet, and ran after him.
“Get out of the way!” he said to Lyubka, who hurriedly bolted the door in the hallway and stopped on the threshold. “Let me pass! Why are you in my way?”
“What do you want out there?”
“To check on my horse.”
Lyubka glanced up at him coyly. “Why go look at your horse when you can look at me?” she said, touching the gilded key that hung on his chain with her forefinger.
“Let me pass, or he’ll get away with my horse,” argued Ergunov. “Let me pass, damn it!” he shouted, hitting her angrily on the shoulder. He thrust his chest against her with all his might to try and push her away from the door, but she grasped tightly at the bolt, with an iron grip.
“Let me go!” he shouted, exhausted. “I tell you, he’ll get away.”
“How could he? He won’t.” Breathing heavily and rubbing her sore shoulder, she glanced up at him again, blushed, and laughed. “Don’t go away, darling,” she said. “I get so bored all alone.”
Ergunov looked into her eyes, hesitating only for an instant before putting his arms around her. She did not resist.
“Well, come on, let me go by,” he asked her. She kept silent.
“I overheard you just now,” he said, “telling Merik that you loved him.”
“That doesn’t matter…. My heart knows who I love.” She touched his key again, and said quietly: “Give it to me.”